


R U mine?

by bleedingrainbows



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, One Shot, Oral Sex, Pegging, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 17:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10644627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingrainbows/pseuds/bleedingrainbows
Summary: Clint regretted many decisions he took in his life.In that very moment, as he was on his underwear and Natasha stood by the foot of the bed with that in her hands, he was fearing that this would be one of those he regretted the most.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't beta read, because I don't have an English speaking friend or connection to do so. You know, people get paid for this stuff. Fic writers don't. So if you get annoyed please just move on and let me be happy.
> 
> (So, yeah, my mother language isn't English either. It's one of /those/ fics)
> 
> You've been warned and all. 
> 
> Thank you so much in advance for not ruining my fun. I'm seriously just hoping you to have some as well.
> 
> \- Clint/Natasha all the way ♥️

Clint regretted many decisions he took in his life.

In that very moment, as he was on his underwear and Natasha stood by the foot of the bed with _that_ in her hands, he was fearing that this would be one of those he regretted the most.

He didn’t remember when it was that he said ‘yes’ to that, but it’s widely known that Natasha could be really persuasive. Especially when she’s on his lap and hushes something into his ear before nibbling its lobe. Oh, he’d do that something. He’d pretty much go to England steal the Queen’s jewelry if she told him to like that. But it wasn’t like, ‘hey, let’s do this right now!”. It still took him time to think about it and change his mind, still he didn't. In the shower, then when she went to pick that thing, then as he sat on the mattress and waited.

But when he had thought about it first, it was more like ‘why not?’. It was Natasha, after all. She had held him by the hand and led him through unknown fields before; she was an eternal unknown herself. Clint doesn’t even mean the whole spy thing, the secrets meant to be kept. It isn’t even all about sex. He means it when she’s wearing his shirt and sitting on the kitchen counter while drinking her coffee, on her lips an unreadable smile. He means it when he can make her laugh until she loses her breath and tears smudge her eyeliner. Even there, it’s like there’s more to Natasha. Something unreachable.

And, of course, he also does mean it when it comes to sex. Natasha is always in command. Not that she was always fiercely on top of him, or a dominatrix of some sort. But the point was, even when it looks like she submits herself, she has it. She’s in control. Saying that Natasha’s lust was for power and that she only plays for mastership was way too simple-minded a definition, but there was much truth to be extracted from it. While it was true her hands always overpowered him, many times it was with the irresistible pleasure of her worship and submission that she exerted that power. So in control he defines when and how to lose it.

And she’s got that unexplainable thing. When her hands slip to inside his pants under the table in the bar and she winks and whisper for him to hush. When he's between her legs and her heels are on the wall of the bathroom stall - but she manages to keep those fucking things on. When she speaks freely in front of men who talk him down of how good he is in bed, then shrugs and scoffs when he asks if that was true. When she told him she’s not aroused in the foreplay at all or asks how he can aim perfectly at anything but her clit, because she wouldn’t play pretend to please a man’s ego - and that was great because he knew that all the times she squirmed, nailed his back and her legs trembled, it was true, she was coming. When she walks in his house two in the morning after disappearing for days, weeks even, and he’s still miserably trying to argue with her about it while she grabs his T-shirt with slithering hands and starts kissing his neck.

She unleashed all his fantasies and let them run free and unashamed, but she also knew how to touch him when his body is bruised. She's got, above all, that way that made him want to go anywhere with her.

He wondered if _that_ wasn’t _too_ far to go. When he doesn’t want to go on even when Natasha is in a silk robe right in front of him, something's not right.

Natasha had to admit to herself, she was having fun with how scared Clint looked.

“It’s not a machine gun, Clint. It’s just a cock. A fake one, fully black, in a strap on, quite small, but a cock. You have one, too.” She shook her hand while displaying it, as if to show him it was harmless.

“Can you not say it? And stop doing things with it? It gets more disgusting if you start swinging it.” He gestured with his index finger, grimacing.

“Can I do this?” Mindlessly, she lifted the dildo and licked it, unhurriedly, from the base to the tip, where her lips covered in almost a kiss.

“Fuck...” He hissed, his cock throbbing in response.

She grinned because just like that she knew she had him again. She could do it easily, but the most intriguing thing was that still it never bored her. Probably because it was pure. Clint was _whole._  He wasn’t the skilled lover who was just half there, with his body, his desire and at most his admiration. Kind, wholehearted, transparent, clumsily flirty, but the kind that would share a bed with you and not make any inappropriate move - unless cuddling automatically when he’s asleep. He does that. It’s terribly annoying.

Still it was a way she felt like waking up.

Because he also wasn’t just a man she was trained to seduce, whether to make him do anything to get in her pants or to fall in love with her. In spite of everything, how it started and how it turned out to be, he had been her _friend._   And when she had a plan for every single relationship she’s ever had, this one just happened. One day, he’s patching up a wound on her shoulder, he whispers a kind sentence accidentally near her nape, and she shivers. She pulled her clothes up again, and she surely meant to thank and leave, but for some reason they were deeply kissing instead, having no idea of who started it.

In that bedroom, standing in front of him, she left the strap-on and the lube tube on the bed. Agonizingly slowly, her hands lifted to her robe, sliding on the soft fabric until they reach the knot and undo it. The piece of clothing dropped to the floor soundlessly, and there wasn’t any other layer of fabric. Naked, she climbed on the bed and in all fours she crawled to him.

“Natasha…” Clint hushed while her body covered his and she straddled him. His rough hands skimmed on her narrow, silky waist, but by the moment his strong arms wrapped around her, he rolled their bodies on the mattress; on top, he kissed her lips eagerly, the insinuating softness of their moves being shattered. He only took his lips away from hers when they were wandering to ner neck. She couldn't help but chuckling.

“On top like this, are you riding already?”

Clint scrunched his brows. He could hear the grin on her voice.

“Stop it!” He scolded her with a hush beside her ear, and she laughed. He pulled his head up to stare into her eyes, frowning.  “You’re not helping, you are killing my mood.”

Her hand smoothly ran down his belly, slipping to inside his underwear.  The other hand hooked on his nape and brought him closer.

“Liar, liar…”, she whispered against his lips as her fingers held his cock and she gently moved her hand, making him automatically moan and push his hips forward. "You need to relax. Enjoy.” Still inside the underwear, her hand slid up; caressing the side of his hip until she’s got a handful on his asscheek and grabs, feeling him wince. “Feel. Feel it.” She was whispering deeper and deeper. “Feel _me_.”

With a sobbing breath, Clint leaned in one forearm and caressed her body with the free hand, grabbing her breast alike her grasp on him, not squeezing, and again he lowered to kiss her. She couldn’t resist to dragging a finger down to between his cheeks, and watched him shudder. Mouth slipping, she bit his chin, stubble ticking beneath her teeth.

Clint’s mind was strafed with the word “nope”, but as he fisted the sheets where he was leaning, the other hand stroked down her torso, swiveled near her hips and roamed to between her legs. Skin crawled almost slowly, making her contort her body without daring to spasm and break any touch, spreading her knees a bit automatically. He noticed it and groaned in complaint, finding it absurd that he chose anything in the world rather than being inside her.

_Ok, let’s get this over with._

“Suit up and grab the lube already. Just be gentle.” He bent his arm back again again and held her hip instead. She laughed and both her hands moved with a coordination few managed to have; one running on his blond, short hair, and the other even lower, fingertips under the rim, the small space just under.

“Not yet, Hawkeye.” She applied pressure there, way stronger than her lingering moves had been. He let out a pleased yelp that surprised himself, and the way he blinked several times, what she saw by the corner of her eye, made Natasha laugh a little more.

“Good?” She did it again, going on with the soft, but firm rub.

“Y-Yeah…?” Clint answered within a gasp, and, well, damn. He wasn’t lying. “Fuck.”

“Clint, prostate. Prostate, Clint. Glad you two met each other. It's just a hint, though.”

Clint let out a strangled chuckle, head hanging beside hers.

“Your sarcasm isn’t much of my turn ons.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Yes, it is.” He sighed immediately after, kissing her neck again with muffled moans.

“You turn me on, Clint. That’s no sarcasm.” She whispered into his ear and licked it, lifting her hips and rolling them against Clint’s, grinding on his hard cock. It was very true that she rolled her eyes pleased at his reaction, that was lowering his own body and pushing hers, pressing them together against the mattress.

“Let me eat you out, Nat.” He growled and swayed back and forth, biting her neck, then lowering the kisses to her clavicle and to her breasts.

That mouth, which was right now sucking her nipple… yes, Natasha couldn't deny it, it was tempting.

“Let _me_ eat _you_ out.” She said instead when his tongue was by her navel, and grabbed his hair to make him stop. He lifted his head with scrunched brows.

“ _What_?”

“Lay on your belly.” She said, and puzzlement was back to his face; the shift on his wide pupils contracting again was like a neon.

“But-” He panted, then scoffed and crawled to her side, lying prone.  “Fuck this, do it.”

He felt her climbing upon him like an entity or something, hovering, as she straddled him, but didn’t touch him.

“Of course you can give up, but it’s entirely your loss.” She lowered to whisper and the brush of her hair on his back gave Clint goosebumps. He hugged a pillow to his chest and frowned.

“I’m… kinda curious right now. And I’m not doing this with a guy, so…”

She grinned, left a single kiss on his nape and followed the line of his spine with one fingertip, watching him shiver.

“Just tell me.” As the touch reached the waistband of the underwear, she hooked on it to lower it and slid it through her legs, taking it off of him.

As she placed a pillow under his hips, and went down on him, he was thinking nothing of that was remotely in the right place. Slicky, wet, weird, and certainly not a place for Natasha’s gorgeous lips to be. With short breath he buried his face on the pillow and hoped it was over soon, but it seemed to not end at all.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks and he commanded himself to release the breath he had been holding. With that heavy hush, his body relaxed a bit, and the fog in his mind dissipated a bit.

Well, it shouldn’t be, but it was there already, wasn’t it? How does it feel, then?

He closed his eyes again, feeling a shiver as her fingers went back again to the space under. He told himself to focus on the sensation, but he didn’t see it coming when his legs shook and he was moaning. Loud.

“F-Fuck!” His fists twisted on the pillowcase and his back arched, oh, ok, _towards_ her face. God. “W-Wha-...?”

She stopped, and he whined in confusion, lifting his torso and looking back. She was smearing her fingers with lube and this time he wasn’t fighting in his mind - nor accepting. He was just blank. Straight up blank all over.

She let her middle finger linger over his hole, feeling the tight pucker, the heat of that place. The cold touch made him flinch, but her mouth was on his back, biting it, the thin layer of sweat there making her teeth slide freely along with her lips. Then her tongue, a streak perfectly teasing along his spine. She rubbed, pressing very gently, and Clint gasped, sucking on his bottom lip.

It took him a self-control he was really unaware of right now not to tense up all over again, and allow her to push a fingertip in. This time, however, he clamped down around that probing invasion. She withdrew, once, twice, before he began to move it to massage him inside, shallowly at first.

His muscles fluttered and then relaxed, and she was able then pushing in inch by inch. Half a finger, however, was enough for her to touch precisely where she meant. Really lightly she stroked, first, and the sound that came out of Clint’s throat was inhuman. It was so overly sensitive that there was affliction in the middle of a terribly weird pleasure.

“Is it…?”

“U-hun.” She leaned in to kiss his ear.

He was shuddering and nothing at all crossed his mind.

“Hi, prostate- Nice to meet you.”

Helplessly, they laughed, and it tensed his muscles in the moment, making her still her hand. But when he stopped, he was more relaxed than before, and she went on. He whimpered. His body quivered around the steady massage, tightened, then relaxed, and she responded by sliding her finger in a little deeper. Then a second one in circling motion.

Clint moaned shortly, head spinning, sweat shining his back. His cock was throbbing against that pillow, and he pushed his hips against it; then it moved away from her, and suddenly it wasn’t what he wanted, so he rocked on his knees back to the fingers.

She bit her lip within a grin and just allowed it while lying on his side and biting his shoulder.

“Nat-,” he gasped. “Natasha…”

“Yes?”

“A bit- just a bit…” He held his hiccupping breath. “ _Harder_.”

It was in following his instruction and moving harder that she slipped another finger in, noticing the slow, but increasing bending of his legs to lift his hips as he muffles his already low moans on the pillow.

That was fucking delicious indeed, and it was only when she moved back to between his legs and her legs rubbed together that he noticed how aroused she was as well. Then she withdrew her fingers completely, back to smear with more lube.

At the sudden emptiness that was supposed to feel ok in his mind, he just found himself drawing his hips towards her even more.

“W-wh--” He didn’t get to finish the word, and it remained more like a whimper. Looking back, to her, he went back to a brief panic when he saw the strap-on in her hand.

“Want more?”

The moan had a short whine held back.

“Y-Yes…” And he was back to burying his face on the pillow, for long seconds just remaining soaring in that oblivion of pleasure and adrenaline. So much that when Natasha turned him on the bed to lay on his back the dim light stung his eyes and he half-closed them.

Natasha manhandled him enough for his hips to be even a bit higher than they were, leaning on the pillow. His hard cock was wet as he haven’t seen it before against his belly and everything was a weird haze.

“Look at me.” She demanded, her hands on both his knees.

He focused on her face, her gorgeous face, her prettiest face of when she’s aroused. Rosy cheeks, reddish lips, green irises just a halo of color around widely dark pupils. The auburn hair falling messy to the side and the strands glued on her neck because she just started to sweat.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Leaning in, she kissed him, and he remembered he had arms when they demanded to wrap around her. Slowly she pushed his knees up and as reluctantly he allowed, sliding his hands to her breasts for his brain to find at least one thing in common with sex he had had before. When her slippery hand held his cock he almost cried out, because he was as hard as he could possibly be, and he held her arms with hiccuped breath. He didn't even notice when was it that she picked more lube. That hand slid down, but just teased on his balls. It was lower where it was supposed to go, again, and, actually, it _felt_ easier. He was thankful she changed positions, because gazing at her, holding her, made him feel that he really would go to hell and back with or for her.

And that _definitely_ didn’t feel like hell.

She had to hold herself back not to rub herself on him and come, because she also wanted to move and quench that yearning that was burning her body. But she guided the dildo where her fingers were, sliding in just a tip, just past the rim. Clint widened his eyes and parted his mouth in silent sobbing.

“Wait-wait-wait.” He said, hands on her waist to keep her from going further.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s… It’s- _big_.”

“Nah. Way smaller than yours.” She winked and held a hand of his that was on her breast, bringing it to her mouth, licking two fingers of his and putting them inside her mouth. He watched and felt as Natasha fellated his fingers and made his entire body ache for her while she had a goddamn fake cock inside of him. That was the most mind-blowing thing and he didn’t notice it that he wasn’t tightened any longer when her hips swayed forth and back, slowly.

He pulled his hand back because he writhed, and she held it, interlacing their fingers.

“Yeah…” His eyelids fluttered and he let go, tightening only the grip on her hand. “...go on.”

So she did, leaning forward to kiss his skin. One couldn't believe how tender Natasha’s kisses could be, and hardly could Clint. The meticulous touches, that would seem so alike her calculated and precise reasoning, but so accurately adjusted to him it could be said they were careful, and caring. Also the passionate movements, like there was an animal made of pure instincts in that perfectly reasonable self.

And as she did it again, Clint noticed. It wasn’t hurting. Oh, no, really no. Sooner than he expected, their bodies were swaying together. She much more moved altogether with him than actually thrusted, but eventually it slid in, more. Her determined expression with that mischievous smile rendered him helpless. A rush of adrenaline pierced freezing in his chest. Damn, that face. No one could stop Natasha Romanoff when her eyes glisten like that.

It made him scoff breathless when he noticed he spreaded his legs wider. He was such a sucker for that woman. He tried to match his breath with her moves; inspire when it slides in, expire when it slides out. Until the coordination was lost. He’s pressing his head against the mattress, she was sticking her nails on his chest. He’s swearing and calling out for everything holy he knew, and she was moaning and relishing on the very rubbing, throwing her head back.

The first whimpers, Clint tried to hold back by placing his hand over his own mouth - not that he actually felt like stopping any reaction of his, but that was a reaction by itself, and he couldn't answer why. Thing was, Natasha was fucking the brains out of him. He couldn’t reason it, but he did. You know what, it only made him more horny. He had a resting bedazzled and desperate expression when it isn’t twisting in pleasure.

The thrusts were hard and fast, her hips slamming on his bottom. It wasn’t that big a sex toy, so in a point she could just thrust in without hurting him. If she slowed down some times, it was for more lube; and she cherished his yearning in getting her to continue. Maybe she indeed could get a bigger toy next time, the thought made her grin.

It came to a point in which Clint was still twitching and trembling from the last thrust when once again he was stuck - Natasha wasn't letting him recover, and among the haze and the dizziness, Clint wished she would never do.

“Nat-... Fuck, please…” That was when her pace decreased and Clint moved towards, as he knew he was losing it. His whole body shuddered and his heartbeats would make him suspect he was having a heart attack. His hand went to his cock to stroke it, because it reached an unbearable point.

“Don’t touch it.” She held his wrists to keep him from touching himself, and pressed them against the mattress. No, not now, time for another kind of orgasm, or at least as close as he could get of it.

“B-But-” His eyes widened and he fought her grip.

“No. You’re mine now.”

He whined in complaint, squirming, painfully hard and edging in levels he had never seen before, but clenching his jaw and shutting his eyes he silently yelled at himself to obey. His cock was dripping wet and he would be surprised with it if he could pay attention in anything at all.

“Oh- Ok.”

“No, say it. Look at me and say you’re mine.”

He opened his eyes again, dizzy, wrecked, a furious and fervent mess.

“I am yours. I am- I...” He wouldn’t argue even if he could. If there was one thing he was, it was hers.

The determined eyes again, and on the distance, he heard himself beg for more and he would only put it into sense when he’s back from heaven. She was tireless, and there wasn’t an actual cock in there with sensitivity to distract her. So she could go on, and on, and on, and fast, and hard.

“I’m gonna suck you off so good when we’re done. You can fuck my mouth. You can fuck me…” She moaned into his ear, gutturally, intensely. “God, I want you to fuck me so bad. You have no idea how horny I am.” She said mostly to drive him to the edge, but she meant it.

There, he knew he would whirl out of himself due to the pleasure, but he didn’t know what hit him exactly.

Everything moves. His body was pulsing, his heart was exploding in his chest and it was like he could feel all his veins throbbing. His body went numb for a quick second. He tightened his thighs, his back arched and the first wave hit him from his waist to his curled toes.

He could have blacked out and seen stars, yes, the unoriginal stars. His body shuddered and he cried out. And then again. And again. When he came back, he was all squirming and hissing “yes” in a row. His eyes flashed open and finding Natasha there was a complete bliss.

When he seemed to be done, she withdrew the dildo quickly, but he still didn’t know his own name and nothing felt on place, but everything felt amazing.

“What-? What- Natasha, what…?” He leaned on his trembly arms, leaning his body on his forearms, and she was unbuckling the strap on from her hips. It dropped to her knees and she started touching herself. She was insinuating, but craving, and clearly actually horny and desperate now that she could release it. There she was, fucking sexy and amazing, grabbing one breast with the other hand, biting on her lower lip while the fingers of the other hand worked on her clit.

Right when he thought it couldn’t get any better at all.

“S-Stop. Come here. Sit on my face. Please.”

Still with that blur on his mind she almost jumped on him; always, however, her gainly moves without an error, and just like that he’s got his head in between her legs.  Her hands tugged his hair impatiently, and he fought his violent vertigo and lack of breath to eat her out the hardest and best he could. Damn, she was _damp_ down there! She released all the control that had been making her edge deliciously, and of course it wouldn’t take much. He's really got well-learned skills with that tongue where it was...

“Yes- Yes, Clint…” She dragged the word and grabbed his she was squirming, pushing herself on her legs and moving her hips, grinding on his face. Orgasm comes shaking her entire body and it’s almost too much, her shuddering legs making Clint think he had always found it would be a great way to die, strangled by those thighs.

She couldn’t control her voice as she whined in the spasm and Clint only didn’t smile because his mouth was way too busy. And he only stopped when she tugged his hair harder and pulled him out of there, as she ran oversensitive.

Then he released his body laid and sighed deeply.

“Oh, my God. This was so- God, oh, my God. Natasha, you are fucking fantastic.” He stroked his own cock, still hard, lazily, enjoying afterglow like he could sink in the mattress. That was the most incoherent, powerful and desperating myriad of pleasures he had ever had.

“You're not so bad yourself.” She smirked, and crawled to his side, sprawling on the sheets, also allowing herself to relax. They panted side by side for some moments and Clint started laughing, then choking on his laughter because he still can’t breathe right. He turned to her and smiled, endeared; she mirrored it. Soon they would be kissing again, this time leisurely, drowsily. His hand dug in her hair and he caressed it.

"See, you’re really unlucky for being straight.” She said against his lips before

“Never thought I’d agree on that.” He said before thinking of it, then frowned and turned to her. His trembling hand roamed to her bare torso. He drew the line from her sternum to her belly with his fingertips, finding somehow amazing the really tiny drop of sweat on her navel. “I’d at most go bi, though. It’s impossible not to find you the hottest thing there is.”

“Gay men think so, too.” She shrugged playfully and sat down, sighing, and rolls her shoulders before putting both her legs out of the bed.

“Where are you going already?” He held her wrist, but didn’t pull. Instead, he caressed her hand.

“I'm gonna drink some water. Maybe make some coffee.”

He just gazed at her through the door, walking on his small apartment mindlessly without any clothes on, like a work of art.

“I’m gonna marry you.”

She had already left the room when he said it, but he had whispered only to himself anyway.

 


End file.
